


Not Going Anywhere

by herbailiwick



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://johncroftianlullaby.tumblr.com/post/36791962147/winter-drawing-writing-challenge">Winter Writing/Drawing Challenge</a> Day 10 - Snowed In</p><p>MJN is snowed in, and Douglas is going to miss an engagement back home, but it's not so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Going Anywhere

"I," he said, all drawn out. "Hate. Snow."

"Well, it's not _all_ bad," I said. I didn't want to admit that being snowed in is like a dream come true for me. Getting to be with the rest of MJN is great, even when where we're together is somewhere we're actually stuck and turns out to not be in England, or...or anywhere near it, really.

"Arthur." He glared at me. "Need I remind you what I'm now going to miss?"

"Right." I winced. Poor Douglas. "I mean, obviously _that's_ bad," I said. "Especially considering what you did to her last birthday party."

He sighed and said, "Shut up." I didn't shut up, though; he wanted cheering up, I thought. Daughters are important people.

"I'm glad your ex-wife invited you over, though, I mean, that's good!" I pointed out.

"What difference does it make if I'm not going to be there?" He got even more serious, which means he got quite serious. "I'm a deadbeat father, Arthur, aren't I?"

We could hear Martin and Mum playing chess in the next room. It was more like Mum was playing and Martin was complaining, though. He'd been so confident going into it that I'd thought he might have done alright, but she's so good that I don't play her to try and win. I just play her because she's Mum. What's the point in only playing something to win anyway?

"You're not," I told Douglas.

He looked at me for a while, and assessed me. "You're right," he said.

"I am?"

"Yes. Thank the stars I'm no Gordon Shappey." 

"And he's no Mr Clark." 

Douglas frowned. "Arthur, who is Mr Clark?"

"A deadbeat father. Emphasis on the 'beat'," I joked.

"I see."

"Maybe you should give into my mum and go play her," I said. It sounded like Martin was about to give up.

Douglas looked at me. "You know, if it's all the same, I think I'll sit and read. Care to join me?"

"Oh," I said a little embarrassed. "I don't read much. It can be awfully hard for me to follow. Lots to pay attention to and keep track of."

"You can read aloud to me, if you like," Douglas said. 

"Oh! And I'll do the voices."

"Must you?"

I took the book from him, opened it to the page he'd marked, eyed the sentences. "Yes," I said. It was quite clear that I'd have to.

Douglas got comfortable on the bed, sprawling out. "Okay," he said. "But, if I stop you, don't take any offense."

"Okay," I agreed.

Funny thing, though, but he didn't stop me. And, afterward, he asked if I might like to read to him again sometime, if we were ever stuck somewhere again.

I hoped we'd get stuck again sometime soon.


End file.
